[attachment=0:2x3ugnys]BvA.jpg[/attachment:2x3ugnys]A true test for the Dark Knight of Gotham as he faces a supernatural opponent, one that commands death. Batman has defied Death for years, how will he fare when Death bypasses the middle man and comes to Gotham herself, in the flesh as it were? Who will Batman find to help him fight the minions raised to confront him, and ravage his city?

"Name?" the bored customs inspector asked for the thousandth time that day.

"Vivienne le Morte," she replied with the weary voice of an international traveler.

"Are you here for business, or pleasure."

"Business," she nealry purred. "Unless I get lucky. I am in town for the Funeral Director's Conventions.

"They have conventions for everything, don't they?"

"Even death needs a holiday," she smiled faintly.

"I hope so, because this job will be the death of me," he said as he slapped an entry stamp into her passport.

"Not as soon as you might hope," she replied with a saucily upraised brow.

He grunted and passed her through, she bypassed baggage claim, all she needed was in the carry on, everything else she'd pick up here. She paused at a portait of Batman on the wall and smirked ironically. "Holy baton hardman," she scoffed and jumped into a waiting taxi.

"Take me to the Hilton."

Check-in was simplicity itself, and the penthouse was soon hers. Vivienne spent a few hours shooping at the high-end stores and had her purchases delivered before she took a slamm case with her to Gotham Memorial Cemetary.

She walked along each in a series of unmarked graves and noted who could be found in them. A veritable who's-who of bad boys and girls, and soon they would be her private army. She noted all of the locations and names, committing them to memory before she made a stop at the morgue.

She told a very convincing story to the attendant about her sister being missing and that a psychic told her that she would be found here and with nervous regret he showed her the occupants of several drawers until at last she found the one she wanted.

She whispered sweet platitudes in a nearly silent whisper, her fingers stroking the cold brow and tracing invisible patterns. She asked for a glass of water and when she was at last alone with the body her ring made a tiny incision between the breasts and then pricker her own finger. She muttered an incantation as her blood filled the incision and smiled grimly when the eyes of the "corpse" opened.

"Command me mistress," she whispered to Vivienne in a dry voice.

The attendant returned and Vivienne looked at him. "She's bleeding," she said quietly, and he came over to see for himself.

"What the f..."

"Feed my pet," Vivienne said quickly and the corpse's hands grabbed his head and pulled him to her, he made no sounds save a few gurgling gasps as his throat was torn out by ravening teeth.

"Gotham," she sighed. "It even sounds dead, you can feel it in the air, in the ground, the dead already walk here, and soon they too shall be mine."

Dateline Gotham City: BREAKING NEWS

Morgue attendant Mitch Winkler was found dead in a drawer at the Gotham City Morgue, missing is the body of a Jane Doe. Unusual circumstances surround the death, the attendant was killed by having his throat either ripped or chewed out. Police are searching for evidence and witnesses to the crime.

Bruce Wayne

"Strange, ain't it, Mr. Wayne?" His assistant, Mary, remarked about the news flash that had just interrupted the regular schedule, and handed him his coffee.

"Very. And yet not," he replied in a rather non-descipt fashion. "I'm surprised something like that even made it to the news in our 'sleepy little town'."

"I hear ya," she sighed, and almost popped her gum, but stopped. Mr. Wayne's other aides had already informed the blonde that he found such things irritating. "Think Batman will get involved?"

That actually brought a slight grin to his face, and he flicked his gaze back to her. "Do you think he should? Seems to me the police can handle a simple homocide."

"I dunno, it sounds pretty gruesome. And in a morgue? Cree-py!" Somewhere, a light went on behind those pretty blue eyes, and Bruce was fairly certain he heard a click echoing somewhere. "Ooh! What if it's zombies!"

Bruce just chuckled, and shook his head. "I think you've been watching too many late night horror movies. Thank you, Mary, for the coffee. That's all for now." The girl left him to his peace, and once the door latched after her, that smile eased from his face. Zombies? Non-sense. But still, she was right about it being rather gruesome. And for it to have made breaking news, there was more to it than the simple details in the newspost. Commissioner Gordon may yet hear from Batman about this...

Vivienne

Vivienne lounged peacefully in a tub of steaming water, Lise, her hew assistant stood off to one side holding a towel and awaiting instructions. This was the tiresome time, when they were still becoming self-aware and time was needed to shape their new persona. But still, this one had more brains to start with than most.

She laid back and squeezed her hand around the small silver blade and held it clenched tightly until her blood oozed from between her knuckles. "Turn out the lights," she ordered Lise, and a moment later the only illumination was from a black candle covered in runes. Vivienne murmured as the blood from her hand dripped and floated on the surface of the water around her, remaining stationary even when she turned to complete the circle and ring of symbols around her.

At the conclusion of her incantation a wake of ethereal energy burst from her, spreading in a perfect circle with her as the epicenter. The energy flowed through everything, filling the highest building down to the lowest nooks and crannies. But a short time later she knew the locations of all of the undead or otherworldly in the city... and they knew that she was there to hunt.

"Let the games commence," she extended her bloody hand toward Lise. "You may feed until it closes."

Vivienne woke late that afternoon and sat to a fine dinner with Lise standing to the side with the infinite patience of the dead. Tonight she needed a hunter, one the like that Gotham had never seen and one that would make a point that none could miss.

Nightfall found her again in Gotham Cemetery, more specifically over the grave of Will Furnace, famous until a few months ago as an actor in martial arts films. His death on the set of a film caused mourning among women, and fueled rumors that like Elvis he'd faked his death and lived anonymously now. What better way to make the rumors seem true than to release him from the grave?

She willed blood forth from her hand and walked around the grave and closed a circle of blood and power and with the spells and incantations complete he rose from the grave as though floating up through water.

She bound Will to her with a taste of her blood and gave him the name of Chastity Makepeace, a white witch. "Destroy her," she said quietly. "Let the city see what it is to earn my disfavor."

Io

She nearly fell flat on her face from the garbage in the back alley, a mix of old newspapers and unexplained goo that turned the air sour around her. As tempting as it was to pinch her nose, or to do the more appealing thing and just turn the bloody hell around...Io kept running. Renee Montoya was three paces behind her, struggling to catch up with the newest Detective on the force. Montoya was fast, but Io Vespa Frasier was faster, and didn't show signs of slowing down; unlike the huffing partner behind her. "Freeze!" Renee shouted at their suspect, her voice holding no signs of tremble or crack from lack of oxygen. "GCPD!"

The man wasn't stopping, but that wasn't a surprise. "Why doesn't anyone...make it easier...and stop!" Crispus Allen, Renee's partner grunted as he struggled to keep pace with them. He was a taller man, well past six foot, but his frame was wider and advertised greater upper body strength, then what was in the legs. His strides kept him a few feet behind Montoya, making Io well in the lead.

Their man was Viktor Algus, wanted for crimes that delved with Maroni family, naturally. The warrent for his arrest was tucked safely in Io's back pocket, held in place with the pair of handcuffs that she had personally charmed earlier that evening. Viktor Algus might be a petty middle man to the Maroni family, but Io knew he was kin to the likes of she. A witch, and a determined one at that. She was struggling every step of the way to cover the occational flair the came from his finger tips, or the grey curse that was intended to slow the detectives down. Viktor would have been in her hands a long time ago, if it hadn't been for that potent black charm he had tried throwing at Crispus at the resteraunt; one that would have given the middle-aged man a heart attack.

Her lips trembled with unheard words, eyes narrowing while they focussed on the man ahead, who was making a sprint to the brick devider in the alley way. He was planning to jump, no doubt, and with the faint blue that was glowing beneath the soles of his shoes he was going to cheat. Of course, this couldn't be easy for you... Io winced slightly, knowing full well that she was going to need some time alone with Viktor if she was going to make her charms work without the other detectives noticing. The charm she had been muttering beneath her breath hadn't been meant for Viktor, who now vaulted upwards towards the wall; soles of his shoes sticking to the brick so that he could reach the top and pull himself over. It was so that Renee would stumble, a controlled fall to the ground that brought Crispus Allen fumbling over her with muttered curses and tangled limbs.

She'd appologise, if she could. One of the more difficult tasks of her possition was keeping the Secret. But she could worry about that later, because Viktor indead grabbed onto the top of the divide, and was swinging his legs around to the other side before dropping down.

Io didn't need a spell to follow him; she put all the strength that was left in her legs to sprint forward, towards the left corner of the divide in the brick wall. She stepped up; palms flat against the brick, to help lift her momentum upwards, another step, brought her nearly seven feet from the ground, and the lip of the wall within reach. Pulling herself up had been slower then she had wished, but Renee and Crispus cursed once more behind her as if impressed with her acrobatic skills. Gloating could come later as well.

Viktor was scrambling to his feet by the time Io was on the lip; his drop had been further then he had planned and by the limp, it had hurt. Make it quick... three minutes, tops, before the two other detectives would be able to round the alley to come from the North side. Io lunged forward, off of the lip, and tackled Viktor to the ground. The air rushed out of him in a gasp; the tips of his fingers were begining to swell slightly with the spell he had started to cast, but Io's own clasped tightly around his wrists: pinning them to the cold, wet cement. She sat high on his back, avoiding any attempts of removal from his legs, and gritted her teeth against the twinge in her own knees. The drop had hurt, but the cuffs needed to be secured before she could worry about such useless things. Bloody hell...I should be wearing a pain amulet here!

"Viktor Algus, you've breeched the contract of the Seventh, and 'ere by revoked of yer charge." Io whispered, digging a knee into the top of his spine, along the bundle of nerves that would, as she knew from years of practise, make his hands tingle and turn numb. The charmed cuffs were tugged forward, clasped on one wrist. The swelling of his fingers in that hand immediantly began to die down. "Let me go!" His voice squeezed out, just now catching his breath. "You don't know who you're dealing with!"

Io made that distinctive, glutteral scoff that the Scotts were known for doing; disgusted. "Dinnae?" She hissed, her mouth close to his ear while she leaned back, tucking his wrist with her, high, so that the limb threatened to dislocated if he pulled too hard in the wrong direction. "A bit of a wee confused, me thinks. I 'ave a war'rent 'ere for yer arrest....and 'nother to silence your tongue." The second cuff clasped tightly around his wrist, so that his arms were behind his back, and once more the charm on them took the swell out of his fingers. Io glanced over her shoulder, breathing hard from the run and the struggle to keep Viktor's hands. When she knew she was clear, she cuffed him upside the head and reached into her jacket's pocket, pulling out a small, glass vile no longer then her thumb, and just about as thick.

Viktor eyed the glass suspiciously, and when she popped the cork off with a nail his eyes widened and the choked cry was smothered with heavily salted water. She clasped her hand quickly over his mouth, tilting his head back and forced him to swallow. The taint of his words would be null, salt clensed spells, and it would last long enough until he got into his holding cell. There, others of her order, the Confession, would begin to strip Viktor of his powers until he was released fully into their custody. The last thing they wanted was a magic breakout in the middle of a police station. Someone would likely get trigger happy.

The cap and vile were once more secured on her person, and Io was struggling to stand while Viktor coughed and gasped, head down, looking slightly ill. It was when Io had him stumbling forward that Renee and Crispus sprinted around the corner, sliding to a stop to their newest member of GCPD pushing the taller man towards them. Crispus blinked his surprise, Renee lifted a brow and placed her hands on either knee to catch her breath. "He doesn't look so good..." Crispus spoke, stepping forward to take their ward so that Io could catch her own breath. She grinned, nodding her head while she spoke. "Aye. Kneed 'im in the baw bag. Gave me a wee bit of a Barnie. 'ell live."

Vivienne

"I hate the graveyard shift," Cagney the rookie grumbled from the passenger seat after disposing of his fourth redbull.

"Could be worse," Clancy the training officer shrugged. "The drunks and hookers are mostly home." They cruised and watched the sidewalks side streets and alleys. "What the fu...?" Clancy flipped on the lights and pointed the car at the sidewalk and locked up the brakes. "Call for backup," he said tensely as he opened his door and crouched behind it, sidearm extended. "Halt!" He shouted.

"Oh shit," Cagney snatched up the mic and reported a white male about 6'2" tall in a dark suit and holding a woman's head by the hair, then he crouched and aimed from behind his own door.

A second car pulled up from the other direction, Clancy noted and hoped the car's camera was getting this, because who would believe it. Clancy checked who it was, Phelps and his rookie Wannamacher. Great. Donut addiction of not Phelps was out and aiming in a flash, but that idiot rookie of his charged the freak with his night stick. Both senior officers cussed him loudly and ordered him back, but the kid had a full head of steam, until the freak spun and laid a heel across the rook's head. They could hear his neck break all the way out to the cars, it was a disgusting sound. Dimly Cagney realizet that the freak's coat was split up the back.

Cagney was calling the officer down in before Wannamacher hit the ground and Clancy and Phelps unloaded, Cagney was firing and calling it in at the same time, good friggin rook, Clancy thought as he snagged the shotgun because this prick wasn't slowing down.

"Looks like that movie karate guy that died a while back," Cagney observed as he cooly dumped his empty mag and slapped a new one in.

Any further discussion about looks was off as Clachy's 00 buck spread the bastard's head across the side of the building. Clancy advanced carefully, still sighting down the barrel of the scattergun.

"Careful, sucker's probably wearing a vest," Cagney warned him as Phelps barreled in to check in his rookie.

"Shit rook, what good is a vest? Sucker has no head," but the shotgun was still aimed. "No blood? What the hell?" He wondered aloud, the head was gone from the upper teeth and all points north. "Should look like a slaughter house."

He planted the barrel of the shoggun into the chest and used his off hand to rip the shirt open. No vest, just holes. And a Y-shaped scar closed up with bif x-stitches. "What the fuck?" his surprise drew out a rare f-bomb. "Bastard looks like he's been autopsied."

That was too much for cagney who painted the sidewalk with his oyster stew from lunch.

"Told you to get the meatloaf," Cagney observed as he backed away. "Get on the horn and call for the coroner and the best photo monkey we've got, this is some weird shit!"

"I think you got him Tex," Phelps said as he draped a blanket over his dead rookie.

"Don't care," Clancy said quietly. "I ain't taking the barrel off of this one till somebody hammers a stake through him."

Vivienne felt the loss of the 'meat puppet' but paid it little attention. The object was to deliver a message and she'd let the press do that, this would be a story that would scream through every form of media, especially when the signs of magic were found around the grave. This would cause ulcers and headaches all through the preternatural community of Gotham, and soon the country. It might even draw the attention of a meddlesome bat.

Sarah Goldfield

Sara Goldfeild was sitting in her apartment, just like she does every night after work. She had brought home some work, but really it wasn't interesting. The title of the headlines was "Beauty or Personality". It seemed like a really lame thing to write about. Who cares what people really thought about other people. Why did it matter to her if people were more into a beatiful person or if they were more into their personality. It just didn't seem write for her to write such a lame paper.

As she sat there at her desk she could hear the noise on the police scanner. She always like listening to them, it was amazing the information you can pick up from one. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening in Gotham City. More of the same thing, someone did something to someone, and a gang of thugs were robbing stores. It was always the same thing every night. Sara longed for something interesting.

Sara went back to writing her paper. She didn't want to, but tomorrow was the deadline. As she sat there at the computer typing away on the story something on the scanner caught her ear. Something about needing reinforcements. Sara sat up straight and reached over and turned the scanner up. She sat there and listened. Whatever it was it had the police officer in a strange tone on the scanner. Sara stood up from her seat and grabbed her camera. Whatever was going on wasn't far from her apartment and this story sounded a lot more interesting than the one that she was writing on now.

Sara rushed out the door. Glad that it was a clear night, the moon would help her get better pictures. As she ran out of the apartment building she could hear the sounds of Gotham City. It was always loud, but tonight there was something different in the air. A still sound, other than the sounds of the sirens from the police cars, ambulances.

When Sara reached the scene of the crime she could see other people gathering. That was nothing new with a murder, but this one was different. She saw two dead bodies. One of which looked like a police officer, and the other she was unsure. She exspected to see all sorts of blood and gore, yet there was done. Sara brought her camera to her eyes and started to snap pictures of everything and everyone. After a few momments she stopped and looked to see if she could find an officer to talk to. When she did, she ask, "What happened here?"

Cop Talk

"Some wannabe ninja was bebopping down the street carrying a woman'r hear," the cop grumbled. "He took out a rookie before his head went boom."

This was obviously a man of few words, but she could see the coroner and a photographer arrive and look down at the body. "Look at the tattoo," the coroner said. "And those are my stitches, I did the autopsy on this sucker a few months ago. You say he was walking?"

"And kicking," Clancy growled. "We put over forty rounds in him before I spread his head on the wall. No blood either. Bastard smells like a school biology lab."

"Formaldehyde," the ME nodded. "This is some funky shit."

"I noticed," Clancy said drily.

Sara Goldfield

Sara looked at the cop. Had he been drinking? "What do you mean carring a woman's head?" She questioned the cop and turned her attention to the cornaner. She listened and tried remember everything that he said. As she spoke she snapped more pictures of the wall that the dead was laying at, and of the dead cop. She then turned to the cop and took pictures of him and of the cornaner.

Finally after finishing her photo's she turned to the cornaner, "What do you mean you did an autopsy on him a few months ago? If he was dead already he couldn't of been walking. You sure it's the same guy? Maybe it was some sort of wacked out gang thing." She finally set her camera around her neck with the straps and pulled out a pen and notebook. Taking down notes. She had almost forgotten that it was in her coat.

Cop Talk

"Two words," the coroner tossed a sheet over the body. "No and comment."

The activity at the scene was hectic with several small huddles of investigators talking as the coroner took prints at the scene. The cop she was talking to earlier stopped by and tapped her notebook. "The no comment stands," he said sliding a cuffling down the pad to her, it was a well executed pass. The back was engraved, Will Furnace, and on the front were tiny nunchucks formed from diamond chips.

Sara Goldfield

She blew a piece of her hair out of her face as the cornaner told her no comment. She swore that's all she ever hears. But without some sort of intell she couldn't write the story.

When the cop she had talked to earlier set something on her notebook and she looked at it. She could tell that it was some sort of cuffling. She grabbed it with her other hand and nodded at the cop, "Of coarse, no comments." Sara couldn't help but sight a bit and placed the pin-dent into her pocket.

Sara looked around a bit longer, taking a few more pictures, hoping that with it being as dark as it was outside that a few would come through. She developed her own film so she wasn't to worry about anyone else see'ing them.

After what seemed hours she finally decided she wasn't going to get a comment out of anyone. She walked back to her apartment. Upstairs she kicked her shoes off and hung her coat up on the coat rack. She liked to keep things neat, for her job keeps her going and going that she never knows when she will have time to straighten the house. So she tried to keep everything in it's place. Sara retrieved the notebook and the pindent from her pocket and set it down to the computer. She kept the camera wrapped around her neck. She knew if she didn't get the film developed now that she would forget. And this story was much more interesting than anything else her editor gave her to write.

Sara walked into her dark room and started to develope the film. She was slightly amuzed how much of the pictures actually turned out. She got a few pretty good shots of the cop she had talked to, of the cornaner, the two dead bodies, and of coarse the bloodless wall the cop had stated he shot the purp at. After getting all the film developed she let them dry. She walked out of her dark room and into the bedroom to change. This was going to be a long night, and she was going to be comfortable doing this story.

Batman

Gotham City had its share of strange crimes and even stranger criminals. However, until this point, when people died, they stayed dead. So when news reached the Commissioner's ears, he had to come see for himself. He was standing to the rear of the scene, just taking it all in with a cup of coffee when he felt the familiar rising of the hair on the back of his neck. "Good. You're here. I don't have to call you now."

He remained in the shadows for now, but took a step forward to speak for an audience of one. "I thought your officers had a standing order to not speak to the press at a crime scene."

Commissioner Gordon sighed, the same long-suffering sigh he often had. "Yeah, but after this, hell if I wouldn't want to tell the press something myself." He took a sip of the coffee, mostly out of habit. "What do you think? This seems out of character for our local characters."

"I agree. None of them have a penchant for puppetry." Batman looked over the scene with sharp eyes, and sighed silently to himself. The scene was beyond contaminated. And while the others may have missed the transfer, he saw clearly that the cop handed the reporter an object. Likely something identifying the perp. He tried to keep an eye on what was going on, but he couldn't help but turn his gaze back to where the headless body lay. There was...something, about it. Not the appearance. This was Gotham, and far more gruesome things occurred here. But there was almost like a feel of energy around the body. However, nothing indicated a heightened EMP reading in the area. It definately gave him the impression that something was not right. Especially since Will Furnace was already dead.

"Will you need a few minutes to yourself here?" Gordon asked, but when no reply came, he looked over his shoulder, to find that the Dark Knight had, once more, vanished without a sound. He sighed again, once more that long-suffering sound, and sipped his coffee again. "Figures. Good luck."

Io

A good bust could go bad very quickly. Io had been ready to celibrate, Viktor was captures, now sitting hunched in the back of one of the uniformed police cars. He didn't speak much more the a few groans. Apparently Io had hit him in the baw bags harder then they thought, because he still looked a little green. She knew it would ware off in an hour or two: after all, it was just salt water. So there was victory! Another criminal off the streets: another rouge witch with a big mouth ready to be silenced. She felt good, elated, and damn well pleased with how quickly she was adapting to this place.

But damn it all, she hated that scanner. The reports that came in took her by utter shock: one that caused an actual sound of outrage that had Montoya blinking blank surprise at the witch's direction. "You...okay?" Was she okay? A report like this was going to ruin her! She's only been in the City for a few month, but this was catastrophic! "Naw! Them aff their heid! This be Bletherskite, aye?" Renee just shook her head, starting the ignition once they saw Crispus take off with Viktor in the second car. "Bletherskite?"

"Rubbish." She rolled the 'r' slightly, wishing that Renee would hurry the hell up. Press her foot harder on the pedal! Excellerate! Turn those blasted twirly lights on and go! Montoya only merged into traffic and sighed, slouching in her seat a little. "After time, Io, you'll learn that all these reports...start to get normal." That was both good and very bad. "We seem to attract the bizare and corrupt, one day it'll be parking tickets and petty crimes. The next you'll be in a courtroom, starring into the eyes of Two Face while he battled with his inner thoughts, and allow the choice of the fates to rest with his damnable coin!"

Two Face. Joker. Scarecrow, Black Mask...she's heard of them all, reading up on all of the known reports before even traveling here. There had been rumors at first that the Black Mask, indeed, was one of the Others. Thankfully, that had ended up just as a rumor. A thought accured to her, then. This...could be salvaged. Nothing worked faster then the whispered spread of lies. Yes... this could work.

By the time they arrived, the EMS team were carting a body across the pavement to their ambulance, a second one had been covered by a white sheet that didn't seem long enough. His foot jutted out past the hemmed edge, lifeless. Io's eyes franticly searched through the scene while Renee parked behind Gordon's unmarked car: the Cojack light swirling on top, piercing through the haze of the night. People seemed relatively in control, at least those who had a task to attend to. Lurkers on the other side of the crime scene tape were fewer then expected, but the scene had to of been nearly an hour old by now.

She could still feel the taint heavily in the air.

It was like being covered in a layer of oil. It sat thick on her skin, stangnat, and the urge to wipe her arms was quickly becoming too hard to fight off. The place radiated with a presence that whispered evil, and caused bile to rise in the back of her throat. So...whatever had happened wasn't the drug enduced halucinations of the Scarecrow? Crap.

The pair got out of the unmarked car, Io shoved her hands deep into her aviator jacket, fingering a copper coin she kept for luck that her friend, Gunthur, had given her before she had left Glasgow. She wished he was here now. "This ain't braw..." She mumbled. The presence wasn't coming from the freshly dead, animated corpse. It lingerd on it, as if that same sort of oil had coated it through. She wanted to shower the moment she was off. Biting her lower lip, Io winced and glanced back to the detective, who was making her way over to speak with Gordon. "S'alright iffin me go take a wee look? At the body, aye?" Renee nodded, "Better you then me. Knock yourself out. Get some gloves from Pettit, he's the dude with the buzz cut over by the meat wagon."

A Pettit, one of the few officers she had a distaste for. She swallowed it down now, determined to find some sort of clue on the body that would mean more to her, then the cooriner

Sara Goldfield

Sara went into the shower, undoing her hair and climbing in she sat there under the running water. She let the water run over her head and down her back. She stood there in the shower thinking about the events at the crime scene and the pendant that the officer had given her. The name on the pendant seemed odd to her. She could of swore that she had heard of the name before. After a few momment she washed herself up and climbed out of the shower, turning the water off. She grabbed her fluffy town and dried off.

Wrapping the towel around her she went into her room. She dug through her dresser looking for her comfortable pajama's. She finally found them, her comfortable pajama's were as soft as a jersey shirt, with butterflies covering the pants and a low cut V-shaped butterfly on the clevage. She was finally comfortable. Going back into the bathroom she brushed her hair out and threw it back up into her pony tail.

Sara looked into the mirror and frowned, "What in the world is going on with this world Sara. Rumors of the dead walking about, impossible," she told herself into the mirror.

She walked out of the bathroom and went to get the pictures of the crime scene. She gathered them together and then walked to her desk. She sat the pictures down on the desk and then sat at her computer. Picking up the pendant she looked it over and over. The name on the pendant, "Will Furnace". She should know that name. But she couldn't place her fingers on it. She started to type on the computer, coping the name from off the pendant onto a search tool. After a few seconds the computer screne blinked at her and then showed the results. "Will Furnace's carrer starts off big" "Will furnace in his first movie". She kept reading the results, "How can this be," she mumbled to herself, "This is really," she stopped looking for the right words. She just sat there staring at the screen.

Quick Flashes

Vivienne giggled at the "breaking news" of a decapitation murderer killed on main street by police that crawled across the bottom of the tv screen. Flipping through the channels she saw similar words from all of the locals, and that meant cameras on the way. Somebody would be growing ulcers right now, she reflected, picturing the chagrin of the city minders. They hadn't seen anything yet. She rose and walked with Lise to the elevator and strolled liesurely to the Keegan Building and strolled through the parking garage to the lower level. She had altered her glamor so that the security showed nothing but a kaliedescope of lights. She wouldn't need long.

They should have called this the "Garabaldi Building," she reflected. Carmine Garabaldi planted most of his enemies under the concrete, but the concrete couldn't hold them forever. She waited patiently for the security guard to appear to check on the broken camera. Poor fellow, she shrugged without real remorse as his blood formed the symbols of power on the concrete floor. With the release of her spell she felt them rise, more than a dozen of them rising up from the concrete as if it were no more substantial than water. They rose, their bodies rejuvenating before her eyes as they absorbed the remainder of the blood from the guard. She needed so little to restore them and she used the wealth of crimson sate them and more. Then in an arcane tongue she gave them their targets and sent them on their way, they left, scattering to find quiet places to bide their time to await the proper moments to carry out their orders, and then they were free to avenge their own deaths.

Vivienne decided to have lunch and then a facial, she felt generous and decided to spoil Lise a bit as well.

"Goldie!" editor Mort Wise's voice spilled from the phone. "Tell me you got the wierdassed shooting, my cop buddy says you were there! Get down here with everything you've got, you'll get a byline on this! If you got pictures I'll open the bank! Haul ass girl!"

"Wondered how long it would take you Freakshow," Pettit raised a brow at her. "You do like the strange ones. Him too," he nodded toward Chief Gordon."

The Coroner Perkins was standing next to him, around the side of the van punching at his Palm Pilot with a stylus. "Confirmed," he said as the last of the pictures from his office downloaded. "Will Furnace, the prints look right, so do the tattoo and birthmarks are a match, so is the gold molar in the lower right jaw. We'll run the body through the ringer, but I'm betting it'll all check out."

"Who's the spare head?" he pointed to a smaller covered bundle close to the body.

Jim Gordon shook his head, barely noticing another officer walking up to him. "Dead security guard at the Keegan building, somebody drew figures or something around him in his own blood."

"Freaky Friday," Gordon groaned. and slipped his cell phone from his pocket to try and get another team together."

Sara Goldberg

Sara sat there staring at the computer screen when her phone rang. She about jumped out of her skin and then picked up the phone. She could hear her editor on the other side.

"Yea I'm here.. I got the sotry Mort. It's um," she trailed off for a minute, "Bazzar. Yea yea yea I got the pictures. Don't ever doubt me, you know I get what I want. I'll have the story for you first thing in the morning." As she spoke she clicked on a few of the things on the computer screen.

When Mort was finally off the phone she went back to writing her paper. She couldn't believe what she was writing. "The dead walks again" was the headlines.

________________________________________

As she sat there writing her story her police scanner went off again. "Now what!" she was exhausted. But she knew if she wasn't out there on the front line that Mort would probably have her job. So she ran to her room, dressed quickly, grabbed her notebook, pen and camera. Threw her shoes and coat on and ran out the door.

Batman

"Alfred, are you listening?"

"But of course, sir," came the slow, comfortable reply of the older man. After that night's first outing, Batman had had Alfred patch the police scanner in to his ear peice, just in case something else interesting popped up. Batman knew his retainer would be listening in as well, but there was always a comfort in knowing his back-stage partner as listening as well. He continued to listen to the chatter over the scanner as he glided down to the rooftop of a certain female reporter. She wasn't that hard to find, and a bit naive to leave her window to the fire escape unlocked, which now slid open moments after Sara went running out the door. He was curious about her pictures and her notes. He looked at it all one by one, carefully scanning the images via the camera in his mask and relaying them back to his base of operations. And much as he would have liked to have borrowed them...indefinitely (because something like this would cause panic once it got out), he needed to be discreet. He did, however, have no qualms about collecting the cufflink. Whoever, or whatever had encouraged Mr. Furnace to go walking about again may have left a trace. He was gone again in a matter of minutes, leaving almost no trace of his ever being there, and was quickly making his way across town to the Keegan building.

Sara Goldfield

Sara had to actually jump into her car this time. The Keegan building wasn't as close to her apartment as the recent crime was. But she knew where it was. She grew up in this city, she knew where everything was like the back of her hand. She drove for almost 25 minutes before she got to the Keegan building. When she arrived there were people and police all over the place.

She parked in hopefully what was a good spot and she grabbed her camera and notebook and went to work. She walked up to the police line, knowing that she couldn't cross it and started snapping pictures. What she saw was something out of a story book.

Sara snapped a bunch of pictures, of the dead guard and of the circles around him. She even snapped other pictures to make it look more like she was just there as a "tourist" rather than a reporter.

Io

Translations:

Jacksey: Ass, specifically the sphincter

Jilldee: Hurry it up/Get a move on.. It took a good measure of self control to keep from growling at Pettit. She truely didn't like the man, and didn't bother to hide the fact in her pale grey eyes. He was dirt, the same scum that Gotham had tried weeding out of the force since the begining of Batman. Of course, she had help for knowing such things. Careful Scrying, a damn good sense of intuition, and Gunther's hushed warnings in her ear when she was first assinged here. Pettit did his job, stood up to the expectations of the force and thrived. But he was a dirty cop, and an ass. She didn't like him at all. "Aye, Jacksey?" Io made sure to lay her accent on extra thick. She knew how to be an ass, and make it difficult to understand, when she wanted to. She also knew how to speak with an American, British, Irish and Australian accent. She'd wait to confuse him later. "Ah decided no tae both'ur wicha. Cause fur wan, ah didny see how ah wid need an eejit. Two, ah don't hink at wee baldy bugger wis a bad'guh. Uhn three?" She simply grinned, flashing him perfect white teeth. Three, she'd keep to herself. Best not to be too foul while she was 'on duty'.

Io moved past Pettit, snatching a pair of the smallest latex gloves that the 'meat' waggon had to offer. The powder on the inside made her grit her teeth, leaving everything gritty but she pushed past the distaste, and instead focussed on Perkin's. Will Furnace was supposed to have been dead weeks ago. So if he was still walking? Necromancer. It brought a scowl to her face, hidden bhind the vale of raven colored hair. As if Io hadn't enough on her plate! Into mysticism though I think, the earrings look like charms.

No.... Io turned sharply, eyes narrowed over to the second sheet that was covering a much smaller object. She had assumed that it was part of the body, perhaps Will's head? Not..someone else's. Beneath her breath she whispered Solomon's blessing. It was a weak attempt to lighten the atmosphere in the air, but it helped. Io was young, reaching her twenty sixth year, but her family sat in the higher echelons of Solomon. She was gifted, born middle aged, her mother had jested. Io's whispered words took some of the taint out of the air. That thick, oily slime that she imagened coated her skin lifted somewhat. So why was her heart begining to clench? Why was she dreading, lifting the sheet?

Jilldee it....won't be so bad....Like a bandaid. The sheet was lifted, and Io pushed the corner away from her, exposing the head finally to view. Copper, rust...Those were the first scents she noticed. Blood always had a distinctive scent. The taste was much the same. But under it all was Sandalwood, sage, and cedar. She was thankful no one was standing besides her, because for a moment Io's mask slipped. She choked back a sob, there would be no tears but the sound was utter disbelief and horror. She settled with a trembling sigh instead. Chastity Makepeace. She stook in the Confession, just as she. Who...would be so foolish?!

"Frasier! We've got to go!" Io didn't look up, instead pressing a gentle finger against the earring on Chastity's left ear. They all wore charms for protection, her own was on an anklet on her right leg. A second bracelet was on her left wrist for Balance. The charms were similar to Chastity's but like all charms, it was made to fit her. Io stood, fixing the cloth so that it covered her associate with as much respect as the cotton would grant her. She would have to contact those in higher power quickly. "Io! Now!"

The latex gloves were peeled off and disposed, before she slid into the car besides Renee and slammed the door a little harder then she had meant to. They were pulling out of the scene before she could even reach for her seat belt. "Oi?" Montoya turned the lights on, and already the squwak of the radio filled the car. Another scene, just being reported. Her chest clenched and the witch had to fight to control her anger. Counting to ten wasn't working. Another scene....would there be another of the Confession? Or had that just been a horrible mistake?

Renee didn't even have to flash her badge in order to cross the tape, her voice lifting about the hush of the crowd, clearly she was far from pleased as her partner Io who was directly besides her. "Get these people out of here! Who's in charge of this scene? Someone put up a fucking screen! I don't want any eyes contaminating my scene!" Io was pleased, finally, to hear this. Why were the cops allowing photos? Even she knew that went against all regulations. It would only open up widespred panic to the public, and she couldn't afford certain individuals to get ahold of such information. Sure...it was against the rules, and chances were Io was going to get her head handed to her for it, but with Chastity's head clearly embedded into her mind, she didn't even try to hold it off.

Everyone was bustling around her now. Cops were pushing the crowd of people back, while others were building a screen around the scene to keep the perimeter as clean as possible. So quickly it was tainted, it disgusted her. With all the bustling bodies around her, Io consintrated on the few individuals were flashing pictures. Her lips hardly moved, but she pictured their faces clearly in her mind, fingers curling before slidding into her coat pocket. It took a great deal of consintration, a film of sweat edged onto her brow but she didn't bother with wiping it off. Each camera would drain of battery, but the main focuss was the photos. They'd be ruined, each exposure would come out blurred, as if all of the colors bled into one. Digital cameras would be much the same, but the chips inside would have actually melted. No proof. They didn't need anymore havok.

Anger helped magic, and in Io's casting the power in the building began to flicker, radios garbled, and computer screens scrolled static for a short moment. She was angry, very angry, but didn't know who to take it out on.

The body seemed to stir, its head fall over to the side and stared at Renee, she heard a flash of a voice in her mind. "The more you try and hide me, the harder others will look."

Sara Goldfield

Sara had made it home that night, frustrated. Her camera had stopped working and she didn't know why. When she got home she went into the dark room and tried to develop the film. As she worked her magic on the film she noticed not a SINGLE one came out. "What the hell," she screamed at the film "Why aren't you working!!!" She had never had a problem getting pictures before. But all of a sudden she hadn't gotten a single one.

After a while Sara finally gave up on her film. Something about it seemed odd, but she couldn't put a finger on what it was. She shrugged it off and went back to writing her story about the dead man in the alley. As she sat there typing away and then printing it her cell rang.

She had forgotten her cell in her coat so she ran to where her coat was hanging and reached into the pocket. She opened the phone and could already hear Mort hollering "I'm here damn it, stop shouting. I was just fixing to be out the door. I'll be there in ten." she hung the phone up and dressed. She hadn't gotten any sleep that night, but she didn't care. The story that she had in her hand was going to make a fortune.________________________________________

Sara walked into the office building of the newspaper. She waved to a few of the others that waved at her each morning. She grumbled a little each and every morning when they did. She was pretty much a loner and didn't really want people around her. She did what she did, she enjoyed it and she didn't want anyone to bother her doing it.

She walked up to Morts Office door and walked in, Knocking as she did so. "Your not going to believe this Mort!" she about chirped at him.

Bruce Wayne

Sara had made it home that night, frustrated. Her camera had stopped working and she didn't know why. When she got home she went into the dark room and tried to develop the film. As she worked her magic on the film she noticed not a SINGLE one came out. "What the hell," she screamed at the film "Why aren't you working!!!" She had never had a problem getting pictures before. But all of a sudden she hadn't gotten a single one.

After a while Sara finally gave up on her film. Something about it seemed odd, but she couldn't put a finger on what it was. She shrugged it off and went back to writing her story about the dead man in the alley. As she sat there typing away and then printing it her cell rang.

She had forgotten her cell in her coat so she ran to where her coat was hanging and reached into the pocket. She opened the phone and could already hear Mort hollering "I'm here damn it, stop shouting. I was just fixing to be out the door. I'll be there in ten." she hung the phone up and dressed. She hadn't gotten any sleep that night, but she didn't care. The story that she had in her hand was going to make a fortune.

________________________________________

Sara walked into the office building of the newspaper. She waved to a few of the others that waved at her each morning. She grumbled a little each and every morning when they did. She was pretty much a loner and didn't really want people around her. She did what she did, she enjoyed it and she didn't want anyone to bother her doing it.

She walked up to Morts Office door and walked in, Knocking as she did so. "Your not going to believe this Mort!" she about chirped at him.

Bruce Wayne

There was a certain joy to being Bruce Wayne, Billionaire Playboy and richest man in Gotham. And, as the richest man, he and his businesses were highly involved in the financial matters of many other businesses. He owned three newspapers outright, held majority stock in several others, and the rest were highly influenced by the changing tides of his advertising revenue. So when a call comes in to the Cheif Editor's office from Wayne Enterprises regarding breaking news, the presses stop and reporters are sent scurrying for the dish. And, as must be expected in the swirling, ephemeral world of the news, some stories had to take a back seat and wait to be published another day.

Such a call came in to Mort's phone mere moments after Sara came into his office. And the news was big. And it seemed that Bruce Wayne himself was going to be at the press conference. And if something in his own company made the idle-minded playboy take interest, then it had to be good.

That same call went out to every major paper and news agency in the city, and many of the smaller ones as well which, coincidentally, included all the agencies that had had photographers and investigators at the scenes last night. And besides, who wanted to hear about yet another night of murders in fair Gotham City? Murders happened all the time, sad fact that it was. The people could wait to hear about the deaths until later. Because only a fool ignored this kind of breaking news.

Io

Normal people would have gasped. Perhaps stumbled back and pointed to get the attention of those near by to proove that they were, or weren't, crazy. Probably, Renee should have reacted, but the shock of it all rooted her to the spot, blinking as dumbfounded as she felt. The more you try and hide me, the harder other would look.... Dual meanings. Renee had a secret that she tried very hard to hide. But somehow her sexual orientation didn't seem to be the answer to the unspoken riddle. In answer her breath wooshed out of her chest, eyes locked onto the the corpse while people bustled and moved about her, doing their best to keep clear of the detective in charge.

Then with a rush of sound, almost like a sonic pop she was returned to reality, where things made sense and dead things didn't talk. Montoya jumped at the drop of a hand on her shoulder, jerking her head away to look at Io who's brows were furrowed and a frown clearly on her pretty face. "You savvy?" The hand dropped and Renee managed a nod, waving over the CSI team with their cameras. She wanted the pictures that were drawn to be perfect. No messy footprints on her crime scene. "Looks like someone is trying to make headlines. What's with the voodoo shit?"

"Is a pena'gram." As much as Renee had been trying to ease the mood, Io didn't dismiss her idea. "Yous folk 'ave witch stories, aye?" Montoya lifted a brow, but her nod said to keep talking. So, Io moved closer to the body, until the tips of her booted toes were millimeteres from the spilled blood. She didn't dare touch it. "Back hame we a bit traditional, aye? Super-sti-tious as you say? Closer tae places like wee Tusna they believe in such. Pena'grams are like your...ahh..." Io tapped her finger on her chin, bending at her knees to crouch down lower. The flicker of the cameras that were allowed continued on with no problem like the others. Io wanted these photos taken. She'd need to study them closer later. She snapped her fingers then. "Graf'et'ay! Your scribbles, aye? Look 'ere." She pointed, where the man's head was possitioned almost delicately. "True north. 'es the po'nt of the staar. And 'is limbs complete it. 'ho eva took the time tae do this knew what tae do."

Renee sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose to fight the migrane that was struggling to surface. She was tired, and wanted to go to bed two hours ago. "How do you know this?" Io's lopsided smile was infectious, as if she knew a great joke and was about to tell the punch line. "Oh aye? Me from Alba, remember?" Now Renee did smile, and shook her head, fighting off the tug that was threatening on her lips. "Io..." The witch stood, pressing her hands on her knees and nodded. "Me mum. The Hen, bless her, always told me stories. Me great ganny back when was a practitioner." And Io laughed, passing it off as if it were an old family joke. "You grow up in a small villa, yous just see 'em. This? Bad berries. They laughin' wit this."

Montoya's eyes drifted back to the circle, frowning now and tilted her chin towards it. "Whats it mean?" Io girl... this is only going to mean trouble. "Dinnae quote me, Renee. ahv only heard stories and pictures. But it looks like ah summons. Like they are trying tae bring 'im back."

Io rubbed the ache behind her eyes with the back of her hand, pressing her forehead against the cold mirror of the bathroom that belonged to the Keegan building. The sun was going to rise soon, and while most people in the world were thinking about getting up at this time, Io should be getting ready for bed. Her sleeping habits were naturally backwards, so pulling these 'all nighters' weren't the problem. It was how exhausting playing these parts was. A detective, undercover as a detective, who isn't supposed to know everything she knows, but still hand out clues when it helped. She was supposed to keep all of this secret, not push the situation by giving Renee the facts. That was only going to help the fiend behind all of this, right?

Io sighed slowly, her breath fogging up the mirror as if the face of a ghost were trying to pass through. If they found it out on their own, they would only panic. She trusted Montoya, the woman was a good cop, and didn't panic. She'd be selective with the information that Io had provided, instead of focussing soley on it. Other alternatives.

She muttered all sorts of curses beneath her breath in Gaelic, but didn't focuss them on anyone. Three fold rule wasn't a myth, and Io did everything she could to be the 'good' witch. She didn't taint her soul with black magic, she spun her own charms and spells from plants, not animal life. She used her own blood to quicken the spells... She hoped things would remain that way. Io would need help on this, they couldn't keep these murders secert for long. And the press? Good goddess! The morrow is going to hurt....Echelons will be cracking down on you with a whip if you don't stop this!

Random Happenings

Word came back from Wayne's inquiries, only one reporter had pictures from the first scene, at least that showed the body before it was covered, and none had anty real detail of the crimes, the police on-scene dummied up before the rest arrived. The scattered reports and photgraphs and diagrams made more of a puzzle than a picture. What seemed to make sense was impossible, and what should have made sense didn't at all.

"Shame about the second scene Goldie," Mort grimmaced. "But there's a good artist in the bullpen," he buzzed to send in the 'sketcher' and looked back to Sara. "Think of the scene until she gets here and we'll have it drawn out."

"The circle is fading out and something's jacked up every camera the CSI boys have." Io heard Montoya's voice through the door, and then Io heard a deep feminine giggle from the mirror.

"She looks good enough to eat," the words were whispered and tingled over her skin. "And perhaps you as well little witch."

Io

The cold glass proved to be a sllight release. What Io desperatly wanted right then was a good strong tea, the security of her home, and a warm blanket. She wanted to curl up into a ball and be forgotten for a few hours. Sleep. Perhaps a good read and her familiar, Frank. The ferret was at home now, most likely causing a mess in her appartment and trying to figure out how to get out. Frank was a bit of a clepto. Especially when it came to shiny things.

"Oi..." The soft sound escaped her lips, murmured against the glass like a kiss before slowly, her eyes opened. Pale grey stared back, looking far much older then the twenty something woman who was looking out and into them. Her mother used to tease that she was born age thirty five, and kept on getting older. A young face, but eyes that screamed so much more. She aged too quickly, Io had no childhood. No fond memories to look back on, no sents that would remind her of childhood games. There was blood...and burnt amber, and the scent of thousands of light candels....

Io shook her head almost violently, biting her lower lip and pushed away from the mirror. Instinctivly, her hand lifted to press against the charm bracelet, automaticly feeling a returning sense of calm. So much at once....she knew she was going to need help on this. Renee's voice sounded, causing a slight jump in the witch for not expecting it. She turned to look away from the glass, brows furrowing and muscles tensing from anger. "Get 'a skeetch artis'! Ge' yer men tae draw wi' chalk if yea 'ave tae!" And no sooner when her words got out, another voice. It didn't come from any of the stalls or even from behind the door. It pushed Io into a defensive stand off; feet shoulder width apart, left hand out to the side to keep her balance: wand in the right.

Now...there was something to consider with wands. A witch didn't have to have them to cast spells. It was used mainly as a focuss, something to consintrate the power on so that it made the casting easier...more potent. Io, was a high witch. Her spells were strong enough so that she didn't need a focuss. She knew how to take the energy transfered without fainting or screaming, or an assortment of others things. She didn't cast spells that she wasn't prepared to risk on herself. A good witch. She didn't kill, especially with magic. But there was something about that voice that triggered instincts into the witch. It was wrong, on so many levels, it stopped her breathing and turned what was left in her stomach to bile.

She looks good enough to eat, and perhaps you as well little witch. Io's eyes focussed on the mirror where she knew the voice was coming from, ready for the worst. "Wisnae ah good idea tae meddle, 'ho are yae?" She didn't speak too loudly, but she did flicker her fingers towards the door, allowing the lock to slide into place.

Amber Nelson

Amber Nelson Lancaster or Nelson, as she been called since the third grade. Nelson never been much of a girly girl, then and now as an adult she wasn't any different. She had once had once dreams of being a down and dirty reporter, but through out highschool she began to relize that the writing thing wasn't her. Turning her focus on other thing brought about her gift with art, and photography. In turning landing her a job here in the 'no lacking of news' Gothem City newspaper.

She took call from the editor's office in stride as she stook up looping her bag over her shoulder. Whistleing she walked to the elevator, her baggy capri pant dragged the floor at her heels as she walked, and with her red hoody sweatshirt she was dressed for comfort. With a ding the the elevators opened up at the top floor and she stepped out on the editor's floor. Making her way casually pass the desk, she came to the editors office and with a short knock on the door. "Some called for for me?" she said at the door. Her brown eyes looking at the two people in the office.

Sara Goldfield

Sara looked at Mort. A sketch artist huh, this thought intrigued her. She had been having issues with her camera at the last crime scene, "I tell ya Mort, I know we have issues here in Gotham City, but I don't know what the hell was going on with my camera that night. It was just like POOF," She rolled her eyes at the thought of the batteries dieing on her. "But that was nothing! You should of seen the pictures themselves, it was unbelieveable. Hadn't I known that I took the pictures and known what they should of been like," she just let out a sigh and then heard someone come through the office door.

Sara turned around and looked at the woman that walked in. "Who are you?" she asked and then turned to Mort, "She's not taking over my story Mort, I'll fight and I'll cheat!" she declared.

Quick Flashes

The rich throaty giggle drifted from the mirror again. "Leave ideas to those with the wit to appreciate them little one," the voice replied. "Who I am and what I'm doing is far beyond you. But if you don't stay out of my way you'll fing yourself a feast for carrion." Then Io could feel nothing more from the silvered glass.

"Amber, Sara," he pointed negligently. "Shut it Goldie, you need the help and Amber is good with a camera and a sketch pad. You two are going to be working together on this, get warm and fuzzy with the fact."

After a few seconds she turned her look back at Mort, "Don't worry about her right this second, I have to show you this," she remembered the file she had in her hand, "If you wish Amber you are welcome to sit here also, you minus well get used to this shit!" She sat down in front of Morts table and spread the photo's of the first crime scene, and then the picture of the pendant she had, along with the research she did on it. "The damn dead is walking again in Gotham Mort, and I've got the freaken proof!" She couldn't help but glow with delight.

Amber Nelson

Nelson cringed when the boss introduced her as Amber. She hated the name as a child and did so still, so she had no qualms at all speaking up about it. "Its Nelson, call me Nelson." She said and gave a slight smirk, and nod to the woman. A amused smile lurched to her lip when the woman thought her stealing the story, her eye moved to the cheif and lifted her brows. Shifting the bag on her shoulder she went ahead and leaned against the door jam she was going to be working with Sara. She felt a eager anticaption fill her when he said she would be working together on the story, could be a good thing for her indeed.

The smile left the young womans face though when Sara quickly shoved her aside with her obvisious brush off. 'So much for getting warm and fuzzy' she thought to herself with a frown. But the woman next words peaked her interest enough to pull away from the wall and stroll to the desk to take a gander at pictures that woman laid out. She bit her tongue on the quality of the pictures, but looked up. "Get any photo's of the second scene?"

IoIo

Io remained unmoving for a moment, breathing slightly excellerated by the rush of adrenoline. A contact.... through the looking glass. But she hadn't seen anything, it was instead a lot like the interogation rooms with the two sided mirrors. She was just on the wrong side. Slowly, the Scotish woman began to notice only herself scowling in the mirror, and before anyone could barge in she slid her wand back into it's hiding spot. Calming herself wasn't coming easy, and every tiny little hair on the back of her neck and arms were standing at attention. The voice she didn't recognize, but it left a nasty lingering in the air that she didn't much like.

The door was unlocked with a flicker of her fingers, snapping audibly as she rushed out of the bathroom, nearly plowing down Renee as she finished her report. The scowl on Io's face only deepend, and she rushed out a string of curses in Gaelic, startling the detective, though thinking them justified. She was confused and frusterated, assuming the witch was the same. "Dinnae tou'ch the body! I wan a search done on tae perim'eter. Get ferensics tae check for salts, herbs, anything that does nae belong! Marco, bring me something to sketch on, 'urry."

People bustled away, doing as they were instructed while Marco, a younger officer on the scene, rushed off to his squad car to get some parchment. Iomoved over to the body now, her strides quick and with purpose, the heavy scowl never leaving her face. Renee handed her a pair of latex gloves. The scene was incomplete, what evidence they had wouldn't be enough to hold in court, but Io couldn't care less. She already knew that the one doing these murders was going to get a cruel end, when all of this was through. Just deserts. Three Fold.

Kneeling now, besides the body, Io carefully brushed her fingers over his form, inspecting the possition, the posture, the sort of infliced pains that had transpired. She also chanted, softly, her lips moving so fast they almost seemed to tremble. When no one was looking she pulled a bit of salt from her pocket, setting small, perfect piled on all seven Charkras as she continued the chant, until it was all through. The man was dead, she gave him a blessing, one that would deater him from rising from the grave, or at least not to. They had enough messes to clean up.

Quickies

Jim Gordon examined the new scene quietly, his eyes scanned the shadows occasionally, because you just never knew what shadow might be hiding an observer.

"This has gone from strange to all sorts of jacked up," another cop grumbled. "Nothing makes sense about any of this crap!"

Sara Goldfield

Sara looked at Mort and shook her head, "I'm not insane Mort, look for yourself," she laid out the pictures on Mort's desk. "You remember that movie star here a while back that died? Well, that movie star decided he wasn't happy in his grave and was up and walking about again, or atleast that's what that cop said. The really weird part about it mort, the ONLY blood that was at the scene was from the head that was on the ground." she sighed out a breath of air. Then inhaled deeply, "Look!", she basically threw the picture of the pendant at Mort, "This shit don't lie Mort, I have the pendant at home."

Sara stood there showing Mort the pictures of the dead man without a head and then showing him the pictures of the "stitches" that was in the mans chest. She managed to get some really good pictures of the first scene, the second scene, the only thing she had was memories.

After a momment Sara sat down in one of the chairs in front of Morts desk. She sat there letting Mort take in what she said. Sara turned in her chair to look at Nelson, "You said your name was Nelson right? Think if I told you what I saw you could draw it for me?"

Io

Gunther was ignorant when it came to technology. The man was nearly ninty years, and still in his prime, looking more like a late fourty something bear that could walk upright. He scoffed at computers and televisions and how people depended so heavily on science. It complicates things. He had once said. Io would only then smile, and turn up the radio. "Wha' if we're bein' watched? These scenes are brutal, they follo' myth, the unexplained. Wha' if we're facin' someone new? You've got tha' Joker character. Penguin, Two face, Black Mask.... wha' if theres someone else? He or she could be a believer, aye? Focussing on the unexplained tae strike fear intae the hear'ts of tah people. Aye?" She could be a voice that spoke through the glass inside the woman's bathroom...

"So, you're saying that, like the Joker, and all of the others... we have someone out there, running loose in out City, doing the unexplained...and practises witchcraft?" She didn't sound convinced, but there was a twinkle in her eye that said she didn't not believe it either. "Ach, this, isnae witchcraf'. You've someone who thinks they're one of 'em Necromancers. One who toys with demons and raises the dead."

Renee stood a moment, trying to relax the ever growing tension that was causing the migrain to grow. She started rubbing the bridge of her nose right now. "Io... the press..." The Witch shook her head, holding up her hands to tell her to stop. "Tell 'em nothing. They'll assume on their own. Teh fools don' care aboot the people. They jus' wan' a story. Selfish bastards are goin' tae cause panic, disbelief. But...there will be those who believe, you cannae stop it. I dinnae know of anyway to stop the papers. Teh first scene became tainted too quickly. And this one? It may have tae. I think it's best tae close them off. Completly." She lowed her voice, so that only Renee would be able to hear her. "Theres tae much corruption here. Theres goin' tae be panic...and that's what this fiend wants..."

Lifting her hand then to the paramedic's on duty, Io waved to get their attention, signalling the crew to come forward with the gurny and the black bag the dead were carried in. The witch stepped back then, allowing them to do their work and whistled once, sharply, catching the attention of Crispus who had returned. The black man nodded once, turning to speak to a man and woman who were moving forward with more equipment. "Shu' the ligh's aff on this grid. We'll get the ones wit the gadge's to do a sweep. The circle will still be there, aye? Try tae get some more photos, once they get done wi' the Leucomalachite we'll have a pretty green replica. Take photos. Buy one of 'em disposal iff'n ya 'ave tae." More orders were laced out into the police work, and Io stepped back for a bit, brows furrowed as she rubbed the back of her neck. Her migrain was focussed more at the base of her skull, like an ever growing pressure that would soon cause her brain to explode.

She didn't dare to look at her watch. It was too late in the morning, though the sun was just starting it's threat to rise. This caused her to sigh heavily, shoulders slacking but there was still tension in her posture, the muscles tight and bunched beneath her clothes. She was too small of frame to look intimidating, but not so small to say she was doll like, or small of bone like a bird. She looked and moved more like a cat, liquid grace and power that was mostly unseen until it was too late. But not dangerous. Even with Io's line of work, she didn't ever hurt anyone purposefully. Sometimes she was forced to defend herself, but she never made the first strike. She hoped, that when she ran into whom ever that woman was, it would remain that way. Io's eyes shifted, away from the crowd, away from the body being taken outside to the awaiting ambulance, and to the glass pannel windows. She moved away from the scene, striding over to the glass to look outside and below. There was a storm coming, already she could see the wind's building speed, and how heavy clouds were rolling in from the sea. "Bad Berries..." She mumbled, trying to shift into a more relaxed possition. When the wind blows from the West, departed sould will have no rest..

Amber Nelson

Nelson looked at the picture's as Sara explained what happened, leaning down slightly looking at the photo's she mumbled something under breath then stood up. She wasn't a hot shot reporter, but the picture of the pendant didn't mean much to her. Maybe the boss knew either way she stayed silent till she was addressed.

Once Sara asked about her scetching up the scene, Nelson nodded. "Sure can more details you remember the better the picture will be." she said taking that as her clue she finally took the bag off her shoulder dropping to floor with a thud. "You want me to start scetching it up here." She asked looking up to Mort, "Or do you have a desk or something." she said looking over at Sara.

Random bits

The crime scene was processed rigorously. The tapes showed nothing, but they still had some hope of pinding physical edicence on the body. "It was a grease job," Bailey, an old detective on his last days of his retirement countdown said. "In and out slick, this is how the pros are supposed to do it, but there's only a handfull of real pros in the entire world, the rest just think they are."

"Try and draw it out," Mort shrugged. "I'll pull you two out of the bullpen for now, you can have the office next door, the couch folds out, it has a fridge and coffeepot and you can use the locker room to shower, because I think a personal life just became a memory for you both. I'll have a couple of apprecntices move your stuff in from the bullpen, get cracking!"

Sara Goldfield

She took a deep sigh in and let out a breath. This was going to be a very long week, or month or year, how ever longed these insane murders or whatever they were, were going to last. Sara looked at Mort and laughed, "Me a personal life," she about bent over double laughing so hard, "I never had one in the begin with." She told the two of them.

Finally after a momment she turned to Nelson and smiled, "Follow me, i'll show you were the office is, and we can get to work. We'll have Mort worry about getting the apprencitces, I want to get this down while it's still rather freash in my mind." Sara picked up the pictures off Morts desk and stood. She walked over to the door and then turned again, "Mort, what do you want me to do with this story?" she indicated about the story she had just showed him, "Did you want to run it, or wait? Personally I think we should run it and get it out there, this is the biggest thing that has happened since that, that batman came into Gotham City," she made a sour look on her face. She knew of Batman, even seen pictures of him, or her, or whatever it was, but Sara had never really personally meet him. And from the stories she has heard from other reporters around Gotham City, she doen't want to.

Amber Nelson

Nelson smirked and once again leaned down and picked up her bag. She would have to call her roomates, not a problem for her either. She liked the idea this story is going to be big. "I'll get in the office and set up." She headed to the other office.

She cleared off a area, and began to set up her pencils making sure she be ready when Sara came in to describe what the scene was. Stick a pencil over her ear she sat back propping her feet up on newly cleaned area on the stand before the couch and drummed her fingers on the pad of paper that rested in her lap. When Sara entered she looke up with a smile. "Well start describing hoss, leave no detail out." She said. She wasn't sure why the woman didn't get pictures of the second scene. No one answered when she asked.

Sara Goldfield

"Details huh, I think I can do that. It wasn't a pretty site," Sara told Nelson as she walked over to the table she was sitting at and sat acrossed from her. "Sorry about not answering your question earlier, I haven't forgotten what you asked, but I honestly don't konw how to explain it. It was like the batteries all of a sudden just drained, yet they were brand new. And then the pictures that I did have, well," she pulled out a single picture from her pocket, "Take a look for yourself." The picture Sara showed her were was all fuzzy. Similar to a television channel that won't come in. You could tell there was something there, but you couldn't make out what it was.

As Sara showed her the picture she sat down acrossed the table from her. She started on her details about the last crime scene, "Well there was a dead body for one, it was strange, it was like he was placed in the way he was," she sprawled her arms and legs out to show Nelson the way the dead body was laying, "And the strangest part about it was he was placed in a circle. I had never seen anything like it before, well except for in the movies." Sara took her finger and drew a circle on the table and then a smaller circle inside, "It looked similar to that, there was some symbols in it also. But I have no idea what they were. I'll have to do a bit of research to see if I can find what they were. They are rather hard to describe, but there was one in each, umm, I guess it would be corner of the circles." Sara drew a star in the north, south, east, west side of the circle to indicate where the symbols were.

She sat there watching Nelson draw what she said. It was amazing to watch people like her at work. Sara could draw bits and pieces but nothing like what she was doing. She just sat there admiring her work, finally after a momment she spoke again, "Wow, your really good at this." Sara looked at Nelson and smiled.

Not Yet Rated!

Io tried rubbing the tired blurr out of her eyes, but every attempt was a lingering failure that was actually just an excuse to close them. Nine in the mourning, really, wasn't so bad. But when you had just pulled a twenty hours shift it was just cruel. She slept durring the day, anyways. Io was used to not getting up until around dinner time, it was just how her habits and sleeping paterns worked. Maybe it was from centuries of hiding in the dark, and casting spells by moonlight. Maybe it was because her ancestors were only able to spell under the guise of the dark. Or, maybe, it was because Io was always running around the blasted world after the sun set, because most of those Baddies were nocturnal? She was thinking too much into it. Renee stretched besides her, sipping a cup of coffee that smelled horrible, burnt, and probably stale. It caused her to glance away while her nose wrinkled up in disgust. "What time is it?" Io chanced a glance back at the detective, scowling with that traditional scottish slur deep in her throat when she caught another wiff of the foul drink. "Ach! I dinnae ken how you can drink tha'! It's mingin!" She waved a hand infront of her face as if to prove her point. Montoya grinned, jutting the styrofoam cup towards the witch as if offering a grand gift. Io pushed back and away, stepping off of the curb outside of the building and against the parked, unmarked car they drove."It tastes even worse. But the trick is to nottaste it, and just pitch your head back and swallow." Montoya deminstrated the said act, but couldn't smile past the bitter grinds that caught her tongue. Io laughed, pleased, holding her side when Renee tossed the cup away, and spat the coffee grinds in the trash. She had celibrated before when she caught the last cup, but perhaps that was the reason no one else took it. Small, grainy peices of the drink stuck to her tongue, and it was until she used the back of her sleeve to expell the rotten taste that she was able to crack a slight smile. The pair stopped when a gust of wind caught them, both leaning into the breeze that whipped their hair around their faces, and pulled their jackets tighter to their forms. Fall must be coming. Without speaking, Renee hurried to the driver's side of the car, slipping in and slamming the door shut to echo Io's. The heat was blasted on, accompanied by the soft squabble on the radio. Io was getting used to it. Oddly enough...she was really enjoying her time in this city. Montoya had bee distant at first, but once she had passed her 'test' the woman seemed to welcome her with open arms. It made the last two months far more enjoyable then any of the others she had spent elsewhere. "Tell me, Hen. Wha' is the plan for the morrow?" Montoya flashed Io a smile, it held a devious edge to it that instantly brought the witch's brow arching."Press confrence, what else? The media is going to try and insue panic. They want to plant the seed of doubt so that more and more people will by their papers as if their news was the only right thing in Gotham. They're heartless bastards that don't want to focuss on the good..." Io nodded, slouching in her seat and yawned into the back of her hand all at the same time. "There be time to sleep, me hope..." They pulled out into the street, heading West towards G.C.P.D. while Montoya nodded. "Gordon is setting up the press confrence for seven. He wants to take the spot light for the evening news. Going to be a little different then what anyone else is used to." This caused another fine brow of Io's to lift, even when her eyes were closing. She 'hmm'd' her interested, but listened closely all the same. "When has Gothom ever held a press confrence to celibrate?" The witch frowned, cracking open her eyes to look over at Renee who seemed a little too smug. "Celibra'e? Celibra'e Wha'?" She got a shrug for a brief moment, as if that was going to be her only answer, then, as Io knew she would, Montoya explained. "The drop in crime, what else would Gothamites want to celibrate? It's nearly been cut in half since the last year alone. That's close to seventy percent of the year before last... it's incredible how things are improving. Yes, there's still the bad, there always will be. But it's getting better, theres hope for the people." It was a nice thought, but Io still thought she looked a little too...smug. She let it drop, for now. The view behind her lids right then was entirely too appealing.

Translations:Dinnae: Don'tken: Knowmingin: Smelly, foul

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

Mort watched them work together and was satisfied at least for the moment that they'd work together well...

Outside of GCPD HQ

Clancy, the officer from the night before, stood outside of HQ when Io and Renee arrived, drinking coffee from a stainless steel cup and looking down at a figure carved in the near the doors. "Looks familiar," he commented to them without looking up to see who they were, it was if he already knew. Experience shows. He continued to study the rune that marked a supernatural anchoring point.

Vivienne

Vivienne and Lise stood before the mirrors, dressed to the nines. Perfect, the animator thought to herself. Exactly right for the Wayne Foundation Ball tonight.

Not Yet Rated!

Io had about twenty minutes of sleep before the car stopped, and Renee's tap on her shoulder quickly snapped the witch's eyes open. It had been too short, twenty minutes left her eyes burning slightly, not at all rested as she had hoped. A yawn was stiffled in her hand, and Io glanced out the window, sliding her feet off of the dash infront of her, and unbuckled her seatbelt before opening the car door. They had found a good spot, direcly infront of the police station, instead of in the lot out back. Such victories were normally bragged about inside the station, but neither of their moods seemed radiating at the moment. Renee looked even more tired then Io felt, her shift had started a bit earlier then her own, but that little bit had drained the human.Io stretched, doing her best to look rejuvinated, or at least as if she could go on a little further. Her soft laugh at Montoya caused the slightly taller woman to glance up from the curb she was stepping over, and at the Witch. "Ye look drea'ful." Renee huffed, but there was a faint smile tugging at the edges of her lips, and she wasn't denying the fact. "Been a long day..." And, before the Detective could ask, Io patted her back, heading towards the stone steps that lead into the station. "Ge' aff wit ye, then. I can finish here. Be back at five? Plenty ah time to swap an' hos' yer confrece."This time, Renee laughed, the pair jogging up the steps in a practised unison. "Uh, you've got to be there too, Frasier. All parties are required." Blast... she was hoping for sleep. Io cringed, but nodded her head, coming to a stop when they ran into Clancy. He looked intent on the ground, as if maybe trying to figure out how the hinges were working. Io quirked a brow, lips parting to speak but was cut off at his words. "Looks familiar." Io and Renee both glanced at the ground, standing there in a straight line while looking at the ruin etched there.Io broke off in a tangent, every dirty, rotten thing a Scotsmen could ever say, was leaving her mouth in a throaty mix of sounds and gestures, that, for a moment, it took the attention away from the anchor, and to the witch. Renee frowned, wondering if the case was starting to get to the newest Gothamite. But before she could speak, Io finally started to make some sence. "Wha' the bloody 'ell are they playin' a' here? Wha' is with the bumfuckery in this city, aye?" Scowling, she stepped over the ruin, pushing open the doors and strode into the building. She didn't stop until she reached her desk, sitting down heavily in her chair to escape view.Her heart was in her throat, beating quickly, as if the wings of a humming bird was fluttering in her throat. This was hitting too close to home. Too close to 'safe', or what was supposed to be. This meant she was going to have to spend the whole day, brewking up some charms. No sleep was in her future, and it was a disturbing thought. Alright Io, you can do this. Make as many protection spells as you can, place them about the building, hand them out as gifts.... She wasn't going to be able to provide that many, not for everyone who worked here, and lived in the city....Her hands lifted, curling into her hair as she sighed heavily, and leaned all the way back in her chair. Cameras.... she'd need to check the security feeds on the cameras to see who placed it there. Odds were against them, the culprite probably messed with the video feed, if not altered it's face. This was bloody annoying.She spun around in her chair once, before pushing herself up to a stand, and strode to the back rooms. If she was going to have to stay awake any longer, then she was going to need a shower.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

Not Yet Rated!

Mrs_B_2006

Sara sat there acrossed the table form Nelson. She hadn't really worked with anyone before, and she was having a tough time not telling this young lady what to do. Mort wanted her to work with her, so she must be good, and from what she could see of the drawing that Nelson was doing, he was right about that. Sara just kind of sat there and watched Nelson draw. It was amazing to watch others, she loved art but was not really any good at it. A smile came upon Sara's Lip and she couldn't help but chuckle. "Ya know Nelson, maybe this won't be so bad after all, as long as you don't mind me looking over your shoulder that is," Sara looked up at the young girl and smiled at her. Sara was more than willing to watch Nelson draw, it was slightly interesting how she could tell Nelson what she saw and the picture came to life.

After a while of sitting there Sara realized she hadn't had her morning coffee, "Did you want a cup of coffee Nelson?" Sara asked Nelson as she stood.

Not Yet Rated!

Nelson listen to Sarah talk for just a bit till she got a image in her head then began to draw out the key things first. Her pencil worked quick over the paper and she stopped only breifly to ask a question, or ask Sarah if it was looking right. She smiled up at the woman and laughed softly. "I don't think it will be so bad working with ya either. Don't much care if your looking over my shoulder most people do." She said with another laugh and went back to drawing.

Putting her pad down she stretched out her legs and arms when she looked up to her new 'partner'. "Yeah actually cup of coffee would be wonderful to get the brain cells going you know." she then took up the pad. "few minutes here I'll need you go through some details and I'll finish it up."

~~~~I'll think of something better later~~~~

Not Yet Rated!

Mrs_B_2006

Sara smiled at Nelson and walked to the door, "I hope you like it black," she slightly frowned, "Someone keeps taking our sugar, we don't know who, but heh, it's all we got is black coffee. We'll finish the sketch when I get back, take a small break and stretch your legs, smoke em if you got em," she winked at Nelson and walked out the door.

Sara walked over to a computer and sat down at it. She turned on the monitor and went into her Internet Explorer. She typed out something that sounded off the wall, "Circles with body." Sara sat there in front of the computer for a momment waiting for her results. All sorts of images came up, not the one she wanted but a few similar. Sara decided that she would try again later with the searching and remembered the coffee that she was supposed to get.

She walked over to the little kitchenette they had in the office building. She poured herself a cup of coffee and a cup for Nelson. Sara walked back to the little office that they were working in and sat the cup on the table for Nelson, "It's not the greatest, but it'll wake ya up," she told Nelson as she sipped on her own.

"Of course, it fits with my plans," she nodded to Lise. "I have set it in motion. And it will put some respect into the badged witch as well."

Gotham Morgue

The body of the rookie released itself from the bag and straightened its head as best it could in his shoulders before striding to the major crimes unit. A few faced looked up as he entered, mor jerked up as the first shots rang out, he emptied and reloaded then dropped his useless pistol and took up another as his body recoiled from the rounds tearing through him. He didn't stop until they were all down, and then waited inside the door watching.

Word went out over the police net, the Major Crimes Unit, with a few exceptions, was gone and the killer still still inside...

Not Yet Rated!

It was the simple things in life, she knew, that mattered. Io was stressed, she felt on the vurge of ripping her hair out with all the hell that seemed to want to break loose at the same time...but the promise of a hot shower cooled her temper. She was alone in a city she didn't know, left in charge of a heavy responsibility with no day off to herself for the last two months. Maybe the stress was simply bad timing, after all she hadn't had a break in such a long time. But....if that was the case, Io was determined not to make it easy for the woman behind this. This is not the time for a burn out.... No. She wouldn't even allow herself to think it. It wasn't even close. Io could handle this, she's handled worse, a lot worse. Like the Loche Ness sighting two years ago, that had nearly blown poor Nessy's cover. Or the time she had to wrangle a werewolf back in New York, and ended up walking through Time Square in the buck. On New Years. Deffinately worse...Still... none of those had ended up with a fellow agent dead. Io hadn't know Chastity as well as some, but the death of her aquaintence triggered something within her. She didn't know what, exactly... but it left her uneasy. What was this woman trying to do? What was her message? Simply that she could do this? It was enough to clutter her mind, and once more Io shook her head, smiling at the familiar faces in the office before turning around the edge of a cubical and headed towards the bathrooms.She stopped suddenly, when that same, familiar sick entered the room. She felt weighed down, as if air suddenly rested heavier on her shoulders, and was covering her skin in an oil. Once more those sickly vibes returned, just like what she felt at the first crime scene, and instincts sent her mind buzzing. Death was in the room, but it was the wrong kind. She felt the world around her shift in a state of unbalance, and nearly gagged as the scent of evil filled her nose. Io had to grip onto the cubical to steady herself, staring out ahead to the stairs as the officer, that should have been dead, came stridding in. "For Fuck's sake..." She managed to whisper, before the gun was drawn, and bullets went flying.Everyone instinctively ducked, keeping as low to the ground as they could. Io hated guns, hated their sound, their function, and the fact that she had to carry one. But, even with all of that, she wasn't scared of them.She was more scared of the undead.And how did one disspell, the undead? She was certain there was a way, but really, Io didn't know how. She didn't know why she was sprinting forward as if she had the answers, she didn't know why she thought that she, a woman standing at five foot five, could tackle a once living man that stood nearly a whole foot taller then she. But that's why Io did, once the clip was replaced with a new one, Io tackled the Rookie as if she were an american football player: arms wrapped around his torso, trapping his arms, and took them both too the ground while rounds went wild. She prayed to the moon, the stars, and everything listening that she wouldn't get shot, that everyone would remain safe, and that she would know what to do once they hit the ground.They hit the ground, the pair slid across the cold floor a short distance before stopping. And, Io had asked for too much. Always, there must be balance. She gave, and now it was her turn to recieve. Io and the man didn't stay on the ground very long, and the gun was shifting quickly in her direction, just as one hand shifted from the other. Instinctively, she reached out with her right, snatching the top of the gun with her palm on the bolt to keep the barrel from triggering back. She pulled forward and twisted so that the filth would released the weapon, and the hand she had been ignoring caught her in the shoulder, much harder then she had expected. It was like getting hit with a cement block, stealing the breath from Io's lungs as she lurched backwards and hit the ground a short distance away on her back. There was blood on the ground, though not from herself. Others had fallen from the bullets that had left the Rookie's gun, and the blood coating her shirt had been from those that had returned fire, before she had lunged. She took that in, before feeling the vice like grip on her ankle, and she was suddenly tugged forward like some sort of rag doll. The Rookie moved faster then she had thought possible for an animated corpse, and now, she blamed the lack of sleep for being caught so unaware. Io scowled, the sound met the scowl coming from the Rookie himself, and she had enough sence to catch his hands before they could find her throat. It wouldn't last long, she knew. Io was more agile, then strong, but no amount of grappling was going to get herself out from beneath him. Fine. She released one wrist, freeing up her own, and contented her probable last moment alive with her fist smashing the side of his face, impacting loudly in the room.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

It was hardly the norm for him to remain on the prowl for so long. Dawn was the unofficial curfew for Batman. However, this latest string of murders had him all over the city all night, and with no end in sight as the sun crested the skyscrapers of the city like some jagged mountain range. The police channels had been busy all night, but now that dawn was approaching, the chatter at last began to return to the normal day-time crimes. Batman had been on his way back to his 'lair' for the day when the latest flurry of calls went up.

Shots fired in the police station. MCU devastated. And, as he raced across the city towards the scene, that the perp had engaged a detective.

It took only minor detective work to discover which floor the suspect was on, and a little more to find the right set of windows.

Inside, the dead rookie's head snapped to the side from the impact with a crack, further destabilizing the broken neck. It sat at an unnatural angle on his shoulders before turning slowly back to Io, a feral look across the pale flesh. His lips curled back and his mouth opened as he prepared to strike.

The window closest to them shattered in a spray of glass as a massive dark form flew in. Batman took quick stock of the room as he sailed through the air, and with practiced strenght and agility, he had no sooner touched his feet to the ground than he was springing through the air again towards where the perp was poised above the body of the officer. A quick roll from feet to hands, and then through the air, plowing into the man feet first, sending him flying several feet through the air before smacking into the wall. Batman sailed over Io, close enough that his cape almost whispered gently across her face as he moved, landing again a few feet beyond in a tight crouch, his cape fluttering into stillness around him, his back to her. "Detective Frasier, are you alright?"

Not Yet Rated!

She watched that look pass over his features, marring the face she heard was normally friendly and inviting: the excited rookie that was getting it's first shot at the life he had been building up for himself. It was enough to make her want to shiver, had she the time for such a reaction, but all Io really did was pull her fist back, hoping for the luxery of one last solid hit. She didn't want to admit that the impact had felt good, that the ache in her hand was a satisfying thing. But the Rookie opened it's mouth, lips parted as if it were going to bite her, and then Io really became scared. Such things weren't common. Heard of, but nothing she experienced herself. Figures, after everything....she'd simply end up as a statistic.Then, glass shattered, the Rookie was ripped free of her, causing Io to rock onto her side, and a shadow.... it happened very quickly, and against much of people's beliefs, everything didn't slow down. Really, it was more like her senses sped up, taking in more detail then what normally would have happened. Io blinked, slightly confused but not at all displeased, and then after that brief pause she was on her feet, only a slight stumble as she made sense of that deep voice and the shadow infront of her.Ah.So here was the Bat. Working two months in Gotham, she had never seen him before. Stories were large and whispered casually. Pictures were available, some obvious hoaxs, but never once had she actually seen him. Or heard him. Or know how he knew her name. It was a little unsettling, but reassurring at the same time. "Aye, Spook. Jus' braw..." Her voice was confident enough, no tremble, or utter disbelief and horror about the situation... in fact she might have been a little too casual about it all. Io wished that there weren't others in the room...other wise, Batman or not, she would have drawn her wand.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

He rose slowly, ever keeping his eyes on the yet motionless attacker. "Detective, please see that the others are not injured." He wasn't so arrogant as to suggest that the young looking female detective get to safety. Crooked or not, none of the officers of the GCPD were without mettle, especially not the precinct's newest addition. But he did wish to have a little more space around him, should the perp rise again. He waited until he heard her take a step away, and then began to slowly close in on the unmoving body.

Not Yet Rated!

Io didn't argue, though she wanted to, simply because she felt responsible. The Rookie was now classified as one of the "Others". He was supposed to be taken care of by her. That was Io's job, her purpose... Gunther had sent her to Gotham for a reason: the city was getting out of hand. The crazed lunatics like the Joker and Two Face were gathering the attention of some of the less desirables. Witches who wanted to show off their tallents. Vampires who wanted bend the rules and take more blood dolls or make a name for themselves. The Trolls under the bridges were only slight problems, but it was getting to be more then that. Soon Pixies would be wanting to live in Bruce Wayne's Botanical Gardens.... Curse them, they were all difficult!But Io took a step back, feeling the twitch in her fingers as they ached to wrap around her wand. She wanted to place a hold on the undead, make him stiff as a board. And if she were to try a simple dispell? Curse yourself, Io. Why hadn't you thought of that before? No...pride wasn't important. Not now. There were people bleeding. Most were being tended by others long ago, but Io wasn't simply going to stand around and do nothing but watch. She dropped to her knees, keeping the two in sight, while she whispered Gaelic to one of the men who had it pretty bad. The words were soothing, taking the shock and hurt from his body. She couldn't heal him, not without her wand, but she could comfort him, and stop the bleeding as best she could with her hands. The paramedics would arrive soon....and then more hell would break out once this hits the public. No one without a badge was coming in or out of the building now, it was locked up tight. She hoped it remained that way, or Io couldn't promise to be so nice to the media as distorting their photos. This time someone might get hurt.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

There was no rise and fall of the chest, the telltale signs of life that the Batman could read from someone playing oppossum. But the impact shouldn't have done more than stun him. Batman knelt slowly, one hand ready to defend, the other reaching in slowly to check for a pulse, even as he noticed the sick angle that the neck hung at off the shoulders.

Not Yet Rated!

It was working. The cop who was prone on the ground besides her wasn't twisting and crying out anymore. The blood began to slow as her pulse began to ease, and it wasn't fair that she couldn't do more. No, Io... there was. There always is... Was this the type of situation that called for a slip? Should she send the people into an even greater panic and draw her wand to save their lives? Her secret wasn't worth a life, and she wanted to save them. Crooked cops or not, Io was getting settled in, something she didn't think was possible for her. She had made friends here, and with all the oddity in their worlds...she felt like she belonged here.Of course the Confession would be on the fence with this one. And ye harm none. Do what you will.... She wasn't harming anyone, she was trying to save them. But the ripple effect... if she saved these people, what would be returned? What would be the outcome? The one who did this...would that only make her all the more angry, or did she want Io to expose her heavily guarded secret? The debate only took a moment, Io's song never faultered, and instead, it lifted high enough to be heard by every ear in the room. She coaxed a calm into their bodies, surfacing memories that would keep the head cool and focussed. The wounded would be more certain that the paramedic's would arrive in time, but still, there was more she could do.Io didn't use blood with her spells often. It was a powerful conduite, like a metal rod in a lightening storm, it would attrack the attention to a path. But the blood that was all around her was human and undead, and none of it screamed to have the power it needed. You're going to need a lot then, Little Io.... Gunther's voice in her head was enough of a surprise to lift her eyes from the woman who was blinking calmly at her knees. The detective across from her crawled forward as if having been beckoned, but it wasn't from Io. "Gunther...Wha' the hell do ye think yet doin'?" Io's brow's narrowed, and the detective who had crossed over to Io and the fallen cop replaced his hands where her own had been. "Kickin' ye in yer arse, lassy. Do wha' ye need tae do. I'll be watchin' yer back."So...in other words....Oh.Well... that'll work. No eyes were on the witch, so who would have seen her lift that jagged piece of glass on the ground. Who would have seen her lift it to the pale, soft skin on the belly of her wrist, or to witness the furrow of brows as her face shadowed with pain for a moment. Gunther was somewhere near by. The witch was powerful, enough that his influence was also affecting the room. No one looked at her, almost as if he had placed a spell so that she would be invisable to them all. She wouldn't put it past him.Blood welled up quickly, the color was richly red, like a ruby, beautiful against the ivory of her skin until it started to flow faster. Ah... a little deep. But the slice was nearly four inches wide, running horizontal against her flesh. She could blame the undead for bitting her later, but the moment her blood began to splatter warmly against the floor, and mingle with the others, Io felt her skin tighten, felt that familiar wind from the Everafter brush against her skin, and she couldn't help the gasp. "You should have warned me we were on a lay line!" She felt Gunther's laugh as a comforting presence, giving her the encouragement she needed to finish.Her lips moved quickly, each word in Gaelic she spoke was percise and correct, accentuated with her accent and rang clear. It sounded similar to the soft song she was singing moment ago, but this time as she spoke, she also sketched. The undead she'll deal with in a moment, but for now she was focussing on healing, and her pentagram was far from the sinister lines at the crime scenes. The air in the room lightened, blood flow slowed in all the open wounds for the living, and taking the additional moments she found that she had, Io prayed the paramedics would arrive soon. She too was bleeding at an alarming rate, and it was Gunther's words, echoing her own, that was stopping the Witch from bleeding too much. Her free hand, the one that was bleeding, was held ready at the side. The moment the paramedics arrived, and people could get help, she'd wipe the pentagram away.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

She giggled despite the undignified sound it made. "A cool million, Lise," she looked to her servant. "And one less group of overly ambitious detectives. And no testimony at trial either. Imagine all of the criminals that must be released now."

"A fine day's work," Lise agreed. "A masterpiece."

"Oh now," Vivienne smiled ferally. "That is yet to come."

MCU

"Commissioner," Lt Corazon glanced over his shoulder. "We're screwed hard. Its a complete loss. The ones that'll live will be gone for a long time, if they come back at all."

"Raul," Gordon pointed back toward the door of the squad commander. "That's yours now. Run hard with it. First of all, we need to find who's behind this."

"If my Grandmama was here, I'd know what she'd say, and I'm packing extra mojo from here on out," Corazon't hfingers rubbed a small tattoo on the web of his thumb and index finger, it was a voodoo sign of protection.

Not Yet Rated!

Nelson chuckled softly at Sarah and said softly. "Must of been a while since you had to drink the stuff they give us in the basement." When Sarah left Nelson finished up then set the pad on the table slidding the pencil over her ear. Standing up she stretched and looked about the office. Putting her hand in the front pocket of her hoodie sweatshirt she walked aimlessly around the office getting the blood flowing through her body. Once Sarah returned she looked up and smiled. "Any coffee, is better then no coffee. Thank you." she said and reached out and took the cup. She was bringing the steaming hot liquid to her lips when mort called out to them. Her brown brows came up and with out saying anything she headed to the man office to see what was going on. She had know she hit the jackpot with this story, this thing is been interesting since she was first called in. What more could be happening was something she didn't want to wait to hear.

~~~~I'll think of something better later~~~~

Not Yet Rated!

Mrs_B_2006

Sara smiled at Nelson,"I can't say I've been in the basement of this place much," Sara couldn't help but chuckle slightly. As Sara's chuckled subsidded she heard Mort screaming for them. Sara couldn't help but roll her eyes at him. He's always screaming, she was starting to think that the man was death or really likes to hear himself talk. Sara watched as Nelson was the first out the door, 'this must be her first assignment', Sara thought to herself and walked out the door shortly after Nelson did.

When Sara got into Mort's office she looked at Mort, "What is it this time? Zombies? Dracula?"Sara couldn't help but tease, "And why must you always scream!" She told him sternly rolling her eyes at him, "It's not like we are deaf or something.

Not Yet Rated!

It seemed that there were multiple parties in agreement about the Rookie. He was dead...again, and much to Io's relief. She wasn't certain on what she would have done if he had suddenly jumped to life for a third time. But, her greatest relief came when Renee stormed back into MCU, a collection of paramedics and more officers behind her, all speaking in unison and reacting to the situation. The medics parted like smoke, attending to the victems of the shoot out, in order of severety. Here, Io sighed, wiping the Glyph clear once she was certain that her help would no longer be needed. Almost instantly the cries started, and Io regretted that she had to remove the calm she had established. "Well done, Lassy."Hardly. There was nothing to be pleased about. Io could still help, she could cure these people, save their lives, make it all stop. But she wasn't aloud, it was against the Secret, it was against the rules. She was supposed to go undiscovered. Io sighed, welcoming the pain that returned to her own wrist, and even flexed the hand into a fist to pull the muscles tighter. It hurt, enough to sting her eyes until tears threatened to form, but she stopped it there. She needed air...Io climbed to her feet, her footing slipped in the blood beneath her feet, but her hand flashed out to the corner of a desk to steady herself, leaving behind a bloody handprint in it's wake. She ignored the attentions of a medic, ducking under the woman's arm and snatch a pressure bandage and gause from her pack and pointed her towards another officer with a head wound. The bandage was ripped open with her teeth, garbage discarded on the ground while she applied it to her bleeding wrist. She slipped again, but was too determined to reach the stairs ahead to actually fall, and she took the steps two at a time until she reached the heavy steel door above. Io nearly shouldered the thing open, gasping the moment she hit the roof and kept walking until she reached the roof's center. Gordon's light was used as a rest, where she pressed her back against it, lessening the weight at her feet, and slid down to the ground. The smell of blood had been thick, enough to choke on, and now that she had cold, fresh air in her lungs she couldn't seem to get enough.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

He was utterly unaware of the magic going on in the room behind him. As Io worked her calm over the wounded, he became very focussed on the body before him. The body of a rookie who had already died. Batman frowned deeply. This was the second person who was supposed to be dead, yet was seen walking around, and now committing crimes. And now that he was extra focussed on what was in front of him, Batman once again felt the tingle over his skin of something oily and disgusting, and he had the fight the urge to wipe his hands over his arms. He checked around the edges of the face for signs of a mask, but there was none. No trace of makeup or disguise. His eyes narrowed, and he carefully felt around the dead officer's neck, lifting the head gingerly, and frowned deeply at what he found. The neck was almost compelely detatched from the spine. The young man had died the first time from a broken neck. It was as if his tumble into the wall had snapped the neck even further. As if he had come back from the dead with all existing injuries. But, it was impossible! The dead simply did NOT rise from the grave. But that was what it all was starting to look like...

Batman was dully aware of the paramedics arriving, and then everything returned to sharp clarity around him with the rising cries of the wounded. He blinked and stood slowly, startling several people with the way he seemed to rise up out of the shadows. He looked quickly around, and saw that everyone would be taken care of. Besides, it was far too late in the day for a bat to be about. He took the same steps to the roof that Io had scaled, intending to make a roof-top getaway, already sending rendevous coordinates to his hopper. But when he saw Detective Frasier slumped on the ground at the base of the shattered "bat-signal," she became his first priority.

"Detective Frasier, do you need medical attention?" It could certainly be counted on the list of traumatic experiences to have a deceased co-worker at your throat. Perhaps she had panicked and fled for fresh air once the situation was more under control. He approached her slowly, looking her over, and his gaze pausing at the bandage on her wrist. That hadn't been there before...

Not Yet Rated!

It was that taint she was running from. Io wasn't scared, she wasn't running, but being as sensitive to the supernatural as she was, it quickly soured her stomach until she was retching. The blood didn't help, the thick copper sat heavy on the back of her tongue and sent the white witch in a desperate attempt to get a clear head. She wanted to help, she wanted to do more, but wasn't able to. She already broke a rule, risked exposure, and it bothered her, that it didn't bother her. She was more then willing to save all of their lives at risk of her own; one way or another. But Renee's entrance, the sight of the paramedics, it stopped all of that, kept her hand from reaching inside her aviator's jacket and pulling her wand. She had been close, and Gunther had been in her head the whole time, watching her back like he used to when she was fist starting all of this. She could have dragged him into this mess with her, and the old witch wouldn't have blanched.Io was in a mess, who ever was animating these bodies was constantly a few steps ahead of her. That anchor at the door: She should have known something would happened. Io should have salted it, blocked it, routed it to the sea, done something more then step over it like a superstition and head inside. And the woman...because Io knew it was a woman, didn't care. She was evil, the sort that caused plants to curl away and not grow, like salted soil. And could she stop that? Was Io able to stop the necromancer without killing her, stop all of these bodies that were rising from the grave, and keep the Secret?So deep in her thoughts, Io hadn't heard the door open, but Batman's presence was suddenly close, and she actually jumped as the Spook moved past her. Seeing him in the daylight wasn't nearly as intimidating, but there was still a power in his movements, still that silent threat. Io had always mused to herself that he was a vampire. Why he was doing all of this, she didn't know. Maybe he was changed against his will, and it had something to do with the evil that was attracted to this City. Maybe he, much like her, wanted to do what's right, even though it was a thankless job, even though people would never understand, and the moment their secret was out, they would be trialed as criminals. Or burned, in her case. Her suspicions on his nature hadn't changed, seeing him in the light. He was silent, held such an attention to detail that it was startling. Did he smell the blood, or simply notice? Either way, Io was pushing to her feet, and shook her head. "Io." She corrected, pronouncing it in it's true form of "Eye-Oh", tucking her hands into her coat pocket and crossed the tarmat so her back wasn't up against the wall. It wasn't distrust... Io's muscles were bunched so hard she was half afraid that she was going to ball up into one bit charley horse. "Dinnae worry, jus' a scatch." One she'll heal the moment she was alone.The fresh air was chasing away the sick twist her stomach had managed to find itself in, but there was still the urge to wipe her arms clean of the filth, an action she allowed herself to indulge in now. "Tell meh, Spook..." She arched a brow, her pale grey eyes watching the man in the mask closely, curiously. "Wha' would ye do iffn' you were in my possition? You 'ave the impossible and the improbably waklin' around as if they dinnae realize they're supposed tae be dead. They attack like rabid, hungry things like in all of those ghastly horror flicks. And the public? The truth will leave to speculation and panic. The press had already snapped their photos. Try as I may, I failed in stoppin' them. MCU was attacked in broad dayligh' by a Rookie. And wha' am I supposed to do? The righ' thing, or the expected thing? Cover it all up? Make it simply go away? Or turn it righ', and in the process..." expose something greater? Io shrugged, not knowing the right answer, or how to present her question.] "I was hopin' tha' this would be one of your spooks, aye? Tha' Joker fellow makin' games. Black Mask, usin' some sort of drug tha.... made the body move even if it was dead. I could come up with hundreds of lies and guesses that would make me happier then wha' seems tae be the truth. Now my departmen' is destroyed? My friends, my family, good and bad all....mos' are going tae be in the hospital. And I'm los'."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?""Not one bit. But it's okay, I'm like every landlord in the nation. I've Googled directions.""Shit."

Mort clenched his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Somebody killed the entire Major Crimes Unit in their own office, right in cop central. And the radio chatter sounded like it was the cop you saw killed this morning that did it. Go dig!"

MCU Offices

The marching orders were given and cops fanned out to see to a myriad of tasks, and the sad work of booking the dead and working the crime scene began.

He frowned, not entirely believing her, but she wasn't dripping blood, and he was sure the woman wasn't daft enough to let something serious sit for too long. He should be gone by now, but when she began to speak, he listened. And then he spoke. "Were I in your position, I might check myself into the hospital for a full psychological exam." The comment wasn't spoken in cruelty, or suggesting that she might be crazy. And though he did not smile, there was a hint of jest in his voice. "But, since we all seem to be in your position, that's hardly an effective solution." He thought a bit more on her further words. The woman knew more than she was letting on. "I need answers. You're right, this isn't Joker's doing, or any of the others. They like people to know it's them causing nightmares and sleepless nights. Whoever is behind this is working from the shadows, and will likely try to keep it that way for some time." He knew Io knew something, but did he call her on it? Demand she share her knowledge? Or let it lie, and hope that she spoke up on her own.

He didn't get the luxury of answers. At that moment, the door burst open again, and this time several armed officers came spilling out onto the rooftop. "You there! Freeze! You're under arrest! Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees!" Figured... "Detective. Until next time." A cloud of smoke erupted at his feet then, blocking him from sight of the officers, but Io, who was off to the side, was able to catch a glimpse of him retreating to the roof's edge, and diving over the side. Of course, the officers gave chase, but when they reached the parapet, there was not a sign of the Batman anywhere.

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